Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 02

'Do I look the part of a western businessman?' he asked.

'You look very well, Sir,' I said.

'Better than in a dish-dash, eh?'

Sensing a trap, I stayed silent, but he went on, 'The Arab dress means we are all equal in the eyes of Allah.'

I'll bet the Bank Manager doesn't think so, I thought, and he probably sensed what I was thinking, and changed the subject. 'Let's go, then,' he said, and snapped his fingers at another 'equal,' who ran off to fetch the Mercedes.

We drove around the city, stopping at the Gold Souk, where he bought me a couple of bracelets, some ear-rings and an anklet to add to my collection, then we called at the Dior shop, where he bought me perfume – but it was all really to show me off ; he just enjoyed playing the role of western businessman for the afternoon, and having me on his arm, though, dressed as I was, Arab sensibilities suggested that I was little more than a whore.

After a while, he was impatient to get home to the palace, and told the driver to go directly there.

As soon as we pulled up, he got out and walked around, opened my door, and dragged me bodily out of the car. His whole demeanour had changed, like the onset of a storm.

'Get inside!' he ordered, and pushed me roughly in front of him. When we entered his lounge, he threw me down on the huge rug in the middle of the floor.

'On your knees, whore!' he spat, and almost before I had chance to assume the position, he was behind me, pulling my skirt up above my waist. He gripped my hips, and thrust my knees apart with his own, then fumbled briefly at his flies. I a second, I felt the crown of his thick cock pushing at my vaginal lips, then a harder shove and he was suddenly deep within my cunt, pumping hard, grunting as he did so, and dragging my hips back with his big, hairy hands to force himself deeper within me. But he wasn't satisfied with this. He had been using my cunt to lubricate his weapon, before taking the real prize he wanted. Now he transferred his attention to my arsehole, and I knew he was going to hurt me a great deal when I felt the first thrust of his thickness into my tender rectum. He wasn't going to spare me my pain, though, and roared as his great curved organ drove past my sphincter and entered my innermost recesses. Once he was inside me, the pain started to merge with a pleasure so intense I thought I should die, and when I screamed, it was with the force of an almighty orgasm that shook my very soul. He simultaneously flooded my bowels with hot spunk as he shot his load, unloading all his pent-up anger against all the iniquities of the west, real and imagined.

I tidied myself up, and went back to my room, without a word.

At dinner, Soraya was nowhere to be seen, so I ate alone, but she came in later, and told me she had been out with the Mistress, who wanted to see me that evening.

'Wear what you like,' she said.

I wore, in the event, a soft silk button-through dress with a floral pattern, and my usual heels. I felt comfortable like that in the warmth of the desert evenings.

When I arrived at Helena's lounge, she was sitting on her sofa, in a flowing black negligee, her long hair loose, cascading down her back. She stood as I entered, and I approached her, wondering if she was going to embrace me. But she held my hands briefly, looked straight into my eyes, and said, 'Undress!'

I slipped my dress off, and she glided around the sofa, returning with her long cane. I shuddered involuntarily, knowing the pain I was about to endure. She pushed me down into a kneeling position, my hands on the arm of the sofa, and flicked my hair over my shoulder, so that it wouldn't be in the way. Without preliminaries, she lashed me ferociously across my lower back, causing me to cry out sharply, and collapse against the sofa.

'Oh, Mistress,' I cried, 'that hurt terribly.'

'Good,' she said, bending to kiss me, and pulling me gently to my feet, 'And now I have a treat for you.'

She walked to the wall, leaving me standing there naked, and pulled a silken cord, making bells jangle distantly. In moments, Soraya came in, wearing the dress she had been wearing earlier, but holding a leash, on the end of which was her friend Hassiba, naked but for a leather dog-collar and matching leather anklets and wrist-bands, all of which had metal rings set into them. Helena explained.

'I caught this girl giving herself to a boy – a low-born peasant who works in the garden. If the Sheikh found out, she could be put to death. If she does not take her punishment well, he may yet be told.' Then she told Soraya, 'Chain her up!'

Soraya proceeded to slide back a section of curtain I had thought to hide a window, but which in fact covered a big wooden St Andrew's cross, with snap-links hanging from short chains at its extremities. She efficiently clipped Hassiba to these, thus spread-eagling her, facing the wall. The girl looked around, utterly terrified, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Although I had been involved in BDSM for some time now, it had never felt real until this moment, and I started when Helena approached me and thrust a long, heavy riding crop into my hand.

'But.....but, I can't, I don't want to........,' I began, but Helena cut me short.

'You don't want to displease me as well, do you, Vanessa?'

'No Mistress,' I heard myself saying meekly, still smarting from the terrible stroke she had just given me across my back.

She knew it hurt, too, and ran her hand down the wound, saying, 'You know the pain fulfils you, dear. We may try something else tomorrow.' She nibbled my ear-lobe, and lightly stroked my pussy with her other hand, noting my growing wetness.

'Now,' she said, suddenly businesslike, 'whip the little slut, until she begs for mercy!'

I gave Hassiba a few exploratory lashes with the crop, just below her shoulder-blades, where I knew the flesh was receptive, but I could tell from a sideways glance that Helena was becoming impatient, and the slight reddening I was bringing about was not enough.

'For fuck's sake,' she suddenly cried out, 'If you can't do any better than that, I shall line the two of you up, and show you a real whipping. And Soraya, you can stop grinning, or that will be three!'

I needed no further encouragement, and put my back into the work, winding up and giving the young Arab girl a vicious stinging slash across her middle back, which raised a lovely red welt.

'Better,' remarked Helena, 'About twenty-five like that, I think, and she will be learning something.'

The girl started to wail something in Arabic, and Helena replied in the same tongue, as I whipped her again, just a trifle lower, and she squirmed and writhed in her bonds, her wails turning to screams.

I continued, and found that I was enjoying myself to a degree, striping Hassiba's gorgeous rounded buttocks, then, with pin-point accuracy, directing my strokes at what I could just see of her pussy. She moaned deliciously as I struck her inner thighs, and I knew the agony she must have felt, but wondered if it was, as in my case, merging with the kind of ecstasy that only the whip could bring.

At last, Helena said she had had sufficient, and I expected her to be taken down, but she said, 'No, leave her there,' and said something in Arabic to Soraya, who looked shocked, but then ran off.

Seconds later, she was back, carrying a small urn. Helena stepped up behind Hassiba and called to Soraya to fetch the urn, then dipped a hand into it. I thought it was a soothing balm. It wasn't. When she smoothed a handful onto the girl's back, Hassiba screamed at the top of her voice. It was salt, and Helena was enjoying the experience.

Finally, when she had rubbed salt into all Hassiba's wounds, she ordered her taken down, then sent her back to her room, saying, 'I'll see her again in two days' time – then I'll decide if I want to keep her.'

Next day, the Sheikh called for me in the morning, and I went to him naked but for jewellery, as I had the first time I was presented to him. I loved the feel of the nipple-clamps, and being shackled and cuffed as I was led into his presence heightened my anticipation.

He told me to kneel, and examined the livid red wheal from Helena's cane, pursing his lips as he did so. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Then, quite gently, he bent me over the couch, and walked over to a large bureau, coming back with a short switch, nothing like as long as that of Helena, but thin and supple.

'I, too, would like to cane you, Vanessa, but just a little,' he said almost apologetically, but then his action belying his words, there was a swish as the cane flew through the air and a sharp sting as it fell across the tender flesh of my arse-cheeks.

'Oh', I cried, and wriggled just slightly, which seemed to turn him on, because the next stroke was harder, and lower down, near the crease at the top of my thighs. I gasped with the smarting sting, and he gave me three more, two across my upper thighs and one right over my arsehole, which really hurt.

'Thank you, Sir, ' I said, as I had been taught to do, when he had finished, and he promptly raised his pristine white dish-dash and revealed an almighty erection. He allowed himself to be pulled down onto the couch, and I licked his crown slowly, letting my silver stud graze it and taking a drop or two of precum from the tip. Then infinitely slowly, I eased my lips around his shaft, taking his length into my mouth a centimetre at a time, making him wait, until I suddenly plunged him right into my throat, then tongued his entire length, running my stud roughly up and down. It was too much for him, and he growled fiercely and bucked his hips to meet me as he came in great waves, flooding me with his hot spunk, of which I swallowed every delicious, salty drop.

He called for food, and we ate together companionably, dishes of spiced meats, pastries and fruit, then he sent me back to my room.

'Your afternoon is free, my dear,' he said.

That evening, Helena's single stroke of the cane was as vicious as ever, but afterwards she made love to me using a double-ended rubber dildo, and she hinted thatIcould cane

herone evening soon – she said she would like that.

Life continued in that vein at the Sheikh's palace, for all but Hassiba – I never saw her again after her whipping, so perhaps Helena sent her away – who knows?